The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(57)

“We can’t hoist the sails until we’re away from the marina and in deeper water. Be patient.” He patted her knee.

The young girls fidgeted with their life jackets, neither one having much to say to the other. He should’ve prepared better . . . set them on a small task to force them to work together.

Emmy peered into the cabin, then looked up with a quick smile. “Can we go downstairs? It’s like a fort!”

“Go ahead and look around.” Ryan remained at the tiller, guiding the small craft out to the open waters of the sound as his daughter and Lisa scurried below deck. As an afterthought, he called, “We’ll call you up when we’re ready to hoist the sails.”

“What do you want to bet those two will spend more time playing house down there than they will learning how to maneuver this thing?” Steffi sat a few feet away, her hands on the cushions on either side of her, face now turned toward the bow.

Despite the wind, he found himself sweating. Like a ship caught in irons, he couldn’t move, his heart stuck between hope and doubt. He and Steffi could never relive the happy-go-lucky days they’d spent this way. His daughter’s giggles below proved exactly how different things were. And yet . . . pointed toward the horizon, anything seemed possible.

They motored farther out. Water slapped against the hull like an uneven metronome. Tracking time. Days, months, years of their lives that had stretched—pulling them in separate directions—then rebounded like a rubber band to snap them back together. He wondered how often she, too, battled bittersweet memories.

Steffi broke his dream state when she stood. “Time for me to take over here so you can hoist the mainsail?”

“Sure.” He vacated his seat so she could manage the tiller, then leaned over the stairs and called out, “Emmy, Lisa, come up if you want to see us hoist the sails.”

“Woo!” came their collective voices only seconds before two small heads popped through the doorway.

“You girls sit over there.” He pointed to the bench near Steffi. “Today just listen and learn. After another time or two, you can have real jobs. Sound good?”

“I can help now, Dad. Ask Steffi. I’m a good helper!” Emmy scowled at him as if he’d denied her ice cream or a new Barbie.

“Be a really good listener for now,” he said. “I’ll quiz you before we head home. If you pass, you can help then.”

Emmy turned to her new friend, brows pinched in concentration. “We have to pay attention.”

Ryan briefly taught the girls about keeping the boat facing into the wind so that it didn’t blow sideways as the sails went up. He then explained the blocks and halyard, the winch, and the function of the tiller.

“You steady?” he asked Steffi.

“Aye, aye, Captain.” She winked. “Hoist away!”

He might’ve stumbled, blinded by the memory her words summoned. Memories, actually, of when she’d teased him with that nickname and comment below deck, when their bodies had been sweat-soaked and sated.

He cleared his throat. “Here we go!”

Like everything else about the day, it all came back to him as if he hadn’t skipped a summer of sailing in his life. As Steffi kept the boat nose into the wind, he cranked up the main, then winched it tight, taking the slack out of the sail.

Emmy and Lisa’s bright, eager faces stared up at the green-and-white sail. The girls then closed their eyes, letting sea spray hit their faces as the ship skimmed across the water.

Ryan took back the tiller, and Steffi got ready to let out the jib.

“Hold up another few minutes.” He killed the engine to let the wind propel the craft forward. The boat rose and fell, water slapping against its hull as the gust whooshed in their ears. He glanced at Steffi. “Now.”

She hadn’t needed the reminder, though. She knew Knot So Fast almost as well as he did. Within another few minutes, she’d raised the jib, and they were off.

“Where are we going, Dad?” Emmy asked.

“There’s an archipelago of tiny islands a few miles offshore. I know of a deepwater inlet where we can drop anchor, picnic, and swim.” He kept his gaze from Steffi’s. He hadn’t picked that spot because it was a reminder of the past. It genuinely provided a sheltered place for the girls to swim. Then again, he could’ve selected someplace that wasn’t fraught with nostalgia.

“What about sharks?” Emmy examined the murky ocean with no small degree of terror in her eyes.

“There hasn’t been a shark attack in the sound since 1961,” Steffi chimed in. “That’s more than fifty years ago. Your memaw would’ve been about your age when it happened.”

“Really?” Emmy looked skeptical.

“Really,” Steffi promised. “And even if there are sharks nearby, they usually eat at night, not in the day. Just remove anything shiny, like a bracelet or ring. We aren’t fishing and chumming the water, so we’ll be fine.”

Ryan noticed Emmy’s fists on her thighs. She looked at Lisa, whose placid expression seemed unconcerned, and her knuckles turned white.

“When we get there, I’ll jump in first and splash around,” Steffi said. “If no sharks come get me, then you’ll know it’s safe.”

“But what if they do come?” Emmy protested.